


not yet the dawn

by gardenofstars (crystallizedcherry)



Series: we have rewritten our stars [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: F/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-18
Updated: 2018-05-18
Packaged: 2019-05-08 14:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14695695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystallizedcherry/pseuds/gardenofstars
Summary: She didn't wake him, but he knew. Like always.





	not yet the dawn

**Author's Note:**

> Avengers and all of the characters and the elements are properties owned by Marvel Studios, all of the copyrights are the creators’. There is no commercial benefit in the making, the objection of the writing is just for entertainment purpose only.

Natasha rose from their bed as the night started to seep her dreams. She slipped from Steve’s grip on her waist just when the last thread of her dream dimming through the tunnel. The wave brought ashore some unfamiliar foam, woven by a story of old fishermen.

She once dreamt about the life outside her espionage daily cycle, and that was far behind. Saving life and the whole world once became too far, too strange, _too impossible_. And yet here she was. Taking shelter under a fragile roof, rusty railing under her calloused fingers. Yet Steve was always there too, inhaling the salty air or bringing freshly-mowed grass from unknown lawn to their bed on their journey together.

Since the day they saw each other in the hangar, she stood for him and he thanked her well enough only in their separate dreams, she knew that things would alter. That her life would be different, because she had chosen side; _his_.

Natasha found him stir awake on her absence, and she was determined to contemplate about this: that this captain, too old to start a family life, started to be driven insane by a togetherness, after years spent alone either in bed or for a walk.

“It’s still four in the morning.”

Her lips curved upward, but not for him to see. “I don’t have any particular sleep cycle.” She knew that Steve just talked about his worry that she would slip from his life, like she _never did_ , but the words went undercover. “Easy, Soldier, I’m not going anywhere.”

Steve didn’t respond. Natasha listened to the creaking sound of the bed. Then his warmth enveloped her back, later her nape. His breath clouded her mind from behind. His hands were not on her, yet she felt embraced.

“I think we should leave soon.”

“The other option?” she asked, eyes searching for any lights she could find all along the shore. No lighthouses, no other lives. It was good for them to find a hidden safehouse like this, but it was too deadly silent at some points.

“Wanda found a canton in Switzerland ....”

She left it there. He didn’t have to elaborate. This was their life. Nothing so strange about strange places, strangers, different weather and different soil. Whether it was sand or rock, hills or lake, lifeless night or crowded afternoon. Blending in or distancing, all the same. Every pragmatic choice was the right chance.

“I called T’Challa this morning. They let Buck to talk with me.”

Natasha found elation in his voice, blanketed with the need of an answer.

“It’s good to know. You want to pay a visit soon?”

“He remembered you more.” It was an open invitation. She didn’t know whether it was for some days in Red Room or doomed Odessa mission, but it was not the point. Steve clearly wanted to connect him and her together, mending the tattered seam. They were the milestones in his life, he needed both to keep him firm, to remind him who he had been and who he was going to be. Some people needed history in their left hand, future in the right, and when they clasped them for a silent prayer, they became a lifeline. An anchor.

Natasha turned her head to find his open sky eyes taking her in in the dimness of the room. She had that urge to envelop his body in her arms, to inhale him in, to take all the scent down to her deepest mind, to glimmer her unsteady hope with all of his liveliness, his firm soul.

And she did.

“Which is the first? Wakanda or Switzerland?”

“Wherever you think best.”

“This is your journey, Steve.”

“Yours too.”

She lifted her head and he tucked a strand of her blonde hair behind her ear. She chuckled. “And Sam’s. Also Wanda’s.”

Steve traced lines on her bare hipbone, under the hem of his shirt. Like a finger of a curious child connecting lines between stars, creating their own constellation, that only his story owned it. “Wakanda. You know it’s the best. Sam could fly to Switzerland first if he wants, Wanda must be understand.”

“And you’re with me?” As if he needed the confirmation.

“ _Always_.”

**end.**

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: i was drowned in anne michaels’ writing, and probably too influenced. so here it is.


End file.
